


{Art imitating life. Life imitating art.}

by NiciJones



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Armie centred, Dark, Doubt, Drugs, Internal Monologue, M/M, Self-Destruction, Self-Hatred, mild reference to violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 09:35:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14102553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NiciJones/pseuds/NiciJones
Summary: Armie is a mess and he hurts. He fucks up and does all the wrong things hurting the wrong people. A piece of mostly internal dialogue.





	{Art imitating life. Life imitating art.}

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lookingforatardis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookingforatardis/gifts).



> I really love this one but I do know it’s hurt. If you are sensitive about seeing characters struggle in ways that might not be healthy and making wrong choices, doing wrong things this might be not be the story and I might not be the right author for you.

This is a mess and there’s no use denying it. Armie’s emotions are all over the fucking place and he has no idea how he ever thought he could deal with this. First, anxiety sat in. Timmy is across the country and he’s fine. He has friends and family and he’s obviously dealing. Yes, they still talk in the mornings when they’re still ruffled from having woken up but how long until that would stop, too? Armie has a movie shoot coming up and then the play during which Timmy would be in the UK. An ocean away. They would have no chance to just steal a moment for themselves like the past 15 months and before that, too. When Timmy came to film Beautiful Boy, Armie was in heaven. He thought things would be different after Crema but they are certainly different _now_.  
He sees Timmy and Ansel at that goddamn basketball game and his heart hurts. There’s a net ready to catch Timmy. He would land on his feet. When he sees that post on Instagram, he has to like it. He considers taking it back, afraid of anyone seeing but then he thinks _let them see, let_ him _see, I don’t care_. But he cares, he cares too damn much. In fact, that’s a huge part of his problem.   
He doesn’t sleep. He drinks too much. He’s angry and bitter and irritated every minute of every hour. The only safe haven he has, are his kids. He loves them to bits and would do anything in his might and more to not let them in on his distress. They deserve none of it and he wishes badly they would never have to deal with something like this themselves.  
When he talks to Elizabeth it’s yelling as soon as they don’t have the kids around to shield themselves. Their marriage seems to be ruins and he doesn’t know what to do about it.  
So what he does in the late hours of the night when he’s not sleeping but drinking, not alive but still breathing is going to through his DMs. He knows this is a bad idea but he wants to hurt, he wants others to hurt, he just wants to feel _something_. When he sees the message calling him out on being with Timothée, the answer pops into his head. And he _knows_ Timmy would hurt, he wants him to even. In some sick part of his brain he wants him to call him and cry and beg. Another part of him wants Timmy to push him away so it wouldn’t be on him. How can Timmy tell him he’d wait? How can he be so patient with him? Why does he love him so much that he’s willing to put up with all of his shit? Where is his breaking point? Surely, there has to be one.   
**Someone apparently has trouble separating life from art.**  
Traitor, traitor. The one having trouble to separate anything is Armie here. He’s the one who cannot fucking cope. He doesn’t know how. He feels like he’s being torn open at every turn and from all sides.   
He doesn’t know how to deal with her anger, her clinginess, her pettiness, her snapping, her cold eyes. But neither does he know how to deal with his warmth, his softness, his smile, his _it’s okay_ , his _I’ll wait for you_ , his love. He’s never had that before. He’s not sure what to do with it. He’s not sure why he has it in the first place. It doesn’t make sense. He’s here, lashing out, for no apparent reason other than being petty.  
He’s miserable, he’s tired, he’s drunk and high more often than not. In short, he’s spiralling and there’s nothing he seems to be able to hold on. Everything he believes in seems to fall apart and run away like sand through his fingers.   
That is the time she decides to bring up getting a third kid. _It will help us_ , she tells him. _You adore kids, wouldn’t another one be nice? Besides Harper has always wanted a little sister, you know that._  
It’s the last thing he needs. Logically, he knew this is a bad idea. It would help nothing, it would only make things much, much worse. He also knows if he goes ahead and does this, he’ll lose Timmy for real and there would really be nothing more left but the silent pleading of _Please don’t forget me and all the things we did_. But when did Armand Douglas Hammer ever have a good impulse control?   
He wakes up after getting drunk and high last night. He’s naked and his memory is spotty. He remembers being angry, he remembers her not backing down, he remembers thinking _fuck it all_ and taking her, wishing every second he would stop.   
He’s not good at this, he realises. He should never be trusted with someone’s heart. Especially not good, kind, loving Timothée’s. This could only ever have ended badly.   
He looks at her, still asleep, naked as well. He remembers that she yelled at him for being too rough but he didn’t care, he just continued and feels so fucking sick for it now. She doesn’t deserve this. No one did.   
_Hey, I’m sorry if this is news to you but I’m such a fuck up. I don’t deserve you or anything that happened between us and I’m sorry for ever letting you think that I’d be worth a second look._ He hits send before he can even think about it. 

They call her Amira Timberly.

Armie had done all the wrong things, as always. He had fallen in love, had broken himself and others, he had gotten her pregnant and lost the only good thing he ever has had aside from his kids forever.   
He’s nostalgic and lonely and mostly angry at himself and the whole fucking world, too so he goes on Tumblr and looks them up. He drinks and reminisces and drinks some more and spirals into memories. He ends up texting Timmy although he doesn’t know whether this is even still his number, even though he knows he has a boyfriend now, even though a thousand times but then again when had he ever done the right thing? He apologises, he rambles, he begs and begs and begs for him to remember everything the same way Armie did, begs him to forgive him, begs him not to forgive him because he doesn’t deserve it, begs him to answer, begs him not to answer because it would only make everything worse.   
He realises it’s been years and still he feels like this and at this point it’s fairly safe to say it won’t ever change. 

He must’ve passed out at some point because when he wakes the next morning, the sun is high in the sky. He blinks and wipes the spit from the corner of his mouth which tastes like something has died in it. With a groan he slides up and notices his phone sliding down into his lap. He picks it up and checks for any notifications.

_One (1) missed called by Luca_   
_**Message from Luca** _   
_Hey, Armie, we are ready for the sequel. Message me asap to determine when you are free._

**FIN**


End file.
